It was at the time when the northern territories were being swept by the enemy for the first time that Mrs. van Warmelo heard that a relative of hers had been put over the border, and was staying with her husband at the Grand Hotel in Pretoria.
She therefore asked Hansie to call at the hotel to inquire whether she could be of any assistance to them in their trouble, and Hansie donned her prettiest frock that very afternoon on her "calling" expedition, Carlo walking with unusual sedateness by her side.
"We'll go and see General Maxwell too this afternoon, Carlo," she said, "and see whether we can get that permit. Always put on your best clothes when you go to the Military Governor, my boy. You'll find that Tommy Atkins never keeps you waiting then."
Arrived at the hotel, she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten her young relative's name, and did not know whom to ask for.
She was waited upon by a hall-porter, who watched her with a face of stolid patience while she searched her memory for the forgotten name.
At last she said: "The lady I want was a MissMaré, but she has married an Englishman since last I saw her, and I have forgotten his name. Can you tell me whether there is a young couple with a baby, from Zoutpansberg, staying at the hotel?"
"I'll find out, miss."
He came back with the information that there were four young couples from Zoutpansberg, each with a baby.
Hansie wondered that he did not smile.
"Are they all in?" she asked.
"Some are in and some are out," he said.
Suddenly he seemed to wake up.
"Would it be any help if I told you their names?" he inquired.
"Yes, indeed," she exclaimed; "I would know the name at once if I heard it."
He brought her the book in which the names of visitors were entered, and read one name after the other slowly.
"That's it," Hansie said. "Knevitt! Is Mrs. Knevitt in?"
"No, miss, she is out, and I happen to know that she is leaving again soon. They only arrived yesterday. They were put over the border by the Boers."
"I don't understand," Hansie answered.
"Don't you see, miss? The Boers are still in possession of Pietersburg, and Mr. Knevitt, as a British subject, has been put over the border."
"Oh yes, I see. Well, will you please give these cards to Mrs. Knevitt when she comes in?"
Once on the street, Hansie again addressed herself to her faithful companion:
"It is not hard to believe that the world is turninground, Carlo, when one has to believe that Pretoria is the other side of one's own border. I wonder what our next sensation is to be."
She was soon to find out.
The Military Governor was engaged, and she was shown into the office of an under official, a tall, fair man whose name she did not catch.
She was politely asked to take a seat and the nature of her business inquired into.
The tall, fair man bent over some papers he had before him and toyed with a gold pencil, while she stated her case as clearly and concisely as she could.
He asked her a few questions, with long pauses in between, and again bent over his papers, making pencil marks and turning the pages over slowly.
The silvery chime of a tiny clock told the hour of five.
"You—er—will have some tea?"
"No, thank you," surprised.
A moment's silence, then he pressed an electric bell at his right hand.
An immaculate "Buttons" instantly appeared.
"Tea for two," the officer commanded, without raising his head.
Buttons disappeared, to return in an incredibly short time, bearing aloft a well-appointedtête-à-tête.
When he had withdrawn, the hospitable officer, of whom it could well be said that "he had a teapot in his soul," poured out two cups of tea with an abstracted air, pushed one towards Hansie with his right hand, while he slowly stirred his own with his left.
"Have some tea," he said persuasively.
There was no answer, and he again bent over the work with which he was occupied.
Hansie got up quietly and left the room, but she had not gone many yards in the long corridor before she became aware of hurried footsteps following.
It was the tall officer, very straight now, who called out to her:
"Stop, stop a moment. Where are you going?"
Without turning round she replied:
"To General Maxwell. Heneverkeeps me waiting," and walked on rapidly.
"Don't go," he implored. "Come back to my office. I have your permits quite ready for you. I was busy with them all the time."
She turned round slowly and walked back with him to his office.
"Thank youverymuch," she said as she took the papers from his hand.
He opened the door for her with exaggerated courtesy, and she went on her way, brimming over with delight.
"I missed two teas this afternoon, but I got my permits and came off with flying colours," she confided to her dumb companion. "Let us go home and tell the mother all about it, Carlo mine."
One afternoon when Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie were returning home, as they passed the house occupied by one of the biggest "lords" in the British Army, they saw an exquisite black kitten sitting on the steps leading from the street to the garden.
Such a kitten! Coal black she was, except for a snowy shirt front and four dainty, snow-white paws.
A delicate ribbon of pale blue satin was fastened in a bow round her neck, and she blinked at the passers-by in friendly consciousness of her superior beauty.
"Oh, you darling!" Hansie exclaimed. "I wish you belonged to me!"
"She does," Mrs. van Warmelo answered, and stooping, she picked up the unresisting kitten and placed it in her daughter's arms.
It was done in a moment and was meant for a joke, but Hansie took the matter seriously and walked on, rapturously caressing her small "trophy of the war."
"Hansie, put that cat down," Mrs. van Warmelo said, looking anxiously up and down the street.
"No indeed, mother; you gave her to me."
"You know very well I did not mean you to keepher. I decline to have anything more to do with the matter."
She walked rapidly on and Hansie followed in some uncertainty, but holding on to her new-found treasure as if her life depended upon it.
Soon she caught up with her indignant parent and said in a conciliatory tone of voice:
"Surely, mother, you don't suppose I would steal a cat from any one else! But Lord —— is trying to take my country, why should I not take his cat?"
"Two wrongs never made one right," her mother answered, "but do as you please. You always do."
Hansie kept that kitten and, after Carlo, loved it better than any other pet, and even Mrs. van Warmelo relented as she watched the playful creature hiding in the shadows and springing out at every passer-by.
"What are you going to call her?" she asked her daughter.
"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll go and ask Lord —— whathecalled her."
She stopped, observing her mother's frown, and then went on:
"We must think of a name, a nice, appropriate war name."
A few moments later the kitten crept into a corner, with a small mouse held firmly between her jaws.
"Oh, mother, look, she has caught a mouse already. She is going to be a splendid mouser. And oh, now I have a name for her. We'll call her 'Mauser,' mother dear!"
So be it. "Mauser" is her name, and hereafter she may be seen invariably in Hansie's company, a welcome addition to the small, harmonious family.
Perched on Hansie's shoulder as she sat reading under the verandah, or purring round her as she lay under the trees, with Carlo watching by her side, Mauser was ever to be found where her young mistress was; and when the latter went to town she and Carlo were invariably escorted to the gate by the faithful Mauser, who again welcomed them on their return.
This kidnapping episode had taken place a few months after the British entry into Pretoria.
A full year had gone by; and Mauser, the kitten, had developed into a beautiful full-grown cat and was the mother of five mischievous little ones, grey-striped and very wild, for whom she had made a home in a deep hollow in the trunk of one of the big weeping-willows, the very tree under which "Gentleman Jim" had built his small kitchen of corrugated iron.
It is a stormy night in November 1901, a month remembered by all for the violence and frequency of its storms.
Hansie is bending over her diary, trying to make her entries between the crashes with which the house is shaken.
Her mother is lying on a couch near by; her tired eyes are closed, but she is not asleep. Who could sleep in such a storm?
Perhaps we may be allowed to look over the writer's shoulder.
"Nov. 8th, Friday, 10 o'clock p.m.
"And this terrific storm has been raging for hours! It seems incredible.
"It was the same last night and the night before. As I write, the roar of thunder never once breaks off, peal after peal, crash after crash, vivid, dazzlingflashes of lightning, torrents of rain mixed with hail, and a howling wind.
"Such a night is never to be forgotten.
"One is thrilled and impressed by its magnificence, by its awful grandeur and its majesty, and yet I think one would go mad if it continued for any length of time.
"I feel as ifIam going mad with the thought of our thousands and thousands of women and tender little children exposed to all this fury....
"Where is the God of pity to-night?
"Surely not in our desolate land, not in our ruined homes—not in South Africa!
"The fourth storm within a few hours, each more violent than the last, is just approaching, and this one threatens to surpass the others in unabated fury.
"The Lord hath turned His face from us.
"The hand of the Lord is laid heavily upon us. His ear is deaf to our cries and supplications. I cannot write, my soul is crushed by the sorrow, suffering, and sin around me....
"I feel better now, but the struggle has been great....
"At the front, fierce blows have been struck lately. Our men are fighting as they never fought before....
"How the storm rages on! In my sheltered home, safe from the fury of the elements, I think I suffer more than the women under canvas, fortheirsakes....
"The letter I have before me must be answered now. He asks me to bind myself to him definitely....
"I have decided to do so. It is a weighty step, and God knows....
"But I have long prayed for guidance, and itseems to me clear enough that we are destined for one another.
"So to-night, in this raging storm, with a heart filled with the desolation of land and people, the blackness of the present, the hopeless misery of the future, I am going to write the words which will bind me for ever to L.E.B.
"Strange betrothal! Strange sequel to a stormy life!
"But perhaps—perhaps, the future holds something for me of calm and peace...."
With throbbing brow she went out into the night to watch the storm, from a sheltered corner under the verandah.
Nothing fascinated her so much.
Suddenly a blinding flash, accompanied by a sound like the sharp cracking of a whip and instantly followed by a deafening roar of thunder, drove her to her mother's side.
"Are you all right, mother? That bolt fell very near. I thought it struck the house."
"It was frightfully close," Mrs. van Warmelo answered.
"Come and sit beside me here. I am quite sure one of our big trees has been struck."
She was right, for walking through the demolished garden next morning, they came upon the spot where the bolt had fallen and found one of the gigantic willow trees furrowed from top to bottom, with the outer bark scorched and curled up like paper and the white bark showing underneath.
Jim was breaking down his little kitchen with all the speed he could.
"What are you doing, Jim?" Hansie asked.
"Jim's shifting," was the answer, soberly and sadly made.
"But the storm is over. All the danger is past. You can safely stay on now."
"No fear, little missie. The Big Baas was very cross last night, and when Him cross He don't care what He do. Jim want to live a little longer."
Hansie laughed.
"I wonder where Mauser could have been with her kittens last night!" she exclaimed, putting her hand into the deep hollow of the tree. "The nest is empty. Do you know, Jim?"
"No, little Missie. I 'spose Mauser's time had not come yet," he said, with stolid philosophy.
"I suppose not."
But alas, alas! Mauser's time was soon to come, for the soldiers, setting a strong trap to catch a wild cat which was nightly plundering them of their meat ration, caught Hansie's beloved Mauser instead, killing her instantly.
No reproaches from her mother were added to her keen remorse as she bent over the motherless kittens, whispering: "Iwill care for you, asshewould have done; but oh, remember this, that honesty is the best policy, and all isnotfair in love and war."
Tragedy was in the air.
A bee-keeper came to Harmony one morning to help Mrs. van Warmelo to take out honey from the hives, and this disturbance, combined with the fact that the soldiers had unwisely set up a smithy near the beehives under the row of blue-gum trees dividingtheir camp from Harmony, enraged the bees so much with the noise and the smoke and heat of the smithy fires, that they attacked man and beast in vicious fury.
THE APIARY, HARMONY.THE APIARY, HARMONY.ToList
THE APIARY, HARMONY.ToList
In a few moments all was confusion.
The servants rushed about frantically, in their endeavours to bring the fowls and calves under shelter in time.
The two women took refuge in the house, closing the doors and windows, while they watched the consternation and disorder in the camp.
Fortunately there was only one horse in the smithy at the time, a beautiful chestnut mare belonging to the Provost-Marshal, Major Poore, so Mrs. van Warmelo was told afterwards.
The soldiers seemed to lose their heads entirely. They ran away, not into their tents, but right away into the "koppies" on the other side of the railway line.
The bee-keeper cut the halter with which the unfortunate horse was tethered to a post, then he too took refuge.
What followed was pitiful to behold and will never be forgotten by the women, helplessly, and as if fascinated by the scene, watching from their windows.
The infuriated bees, deprived of all other living things on which to wreak their vengeance, turned, in their thousands, on the hapless mare, which stood unmoved, as horses do, when lashed by hail or panic-stricken under flames.
She made no attempt to save herself, but with bent head and ears laid flat she stood still under the furious attack of countless bees.
One or two of the men, wrapped up to the eyes inthe coats and waistcoats of their comrades, cautiously approached the mare at their own great peril, and tried with all their strength to move her from the scene.
In vain. As if rooted to the spot she stood, with her four feet planted firmly on the ground, and they desisted in despair, once more fleeing to the hills.
All day they sat upon the hillside, homeless, many of them hatless, until towards afternoon, when, the fury of the bees abating, they ventured a return to their tents.
The next day, when the dead mare had been removed for burial, a letter was brought to Mrs. van Warmelo from the Provost-Marshal, commanding the immediate removal of the beehives to some safer spot in the lower portion of Harmony.
This was done by degrees, little by little every night, in order to accustom the bees to the change gradually, and there was never any repetition of the attack.
Hansie, writing to her brother in his prison-fort at Ahmednagar, that his bees had put a valuable English horse out of action for ever, received in reply a postcard, with the single comment, "My brave bees!"
As we have said, the Committee of women had decided on Harmony as the only safe spot for harbouring Captain Naudé on his next visit. It was still hemmed in by troops on every side, and, as the weeks went by, and the van Warmelos becamemoreconvinced that their name had not been betrayed with those of the Secret Committee, they settled down with a sense of peaceful security and prepared themselves once more for the reception of their friends.
Their wonderful "escape" was a topic of daily conversation, and they congratulated themselves over and over again with not even having been approached by the military and put on their best behaviour.
No promises had been given by them, and they felt free as the birds of the air to continue their work of outwitting the enemy, whenever occasion presented itself. But occasions were rare now.
As far as was known, there was no longer a spot in the fencework around Pretoria through which a spy could enter unobserved, and no word or sign had been received from the brave Captain for more than three months. By this they knew that he had been informed of the calamities which had befallen his friends in town.
Still they doubted not that he would at least make an attempt to come in again. His friends remembered his once having said that his keen enjoyment of the perils he underwent was only enhanced by the obstacles which lay in his way, and when the English thought they had made it quite impossible for any man to cross their lines, it would be his greatest pleasure to prove how much mistaken they were.
There was no vain boasting in the quiet and natural way in which he made these remarks, and they were remembered with a strong conviction that he would keep his word. But still it was realised that his greatest difficulty would not be so much his entrance into the town as his perplexity when once he found himself there.
He would not know where to go. His friends had been banished, their houses were occupied by the enemy, and as yet he did not know of the existence of the new Committee. Sending out word to him was impossible.
No man could risk the unknown dangers of leaving the town under the present conditions to warn him; no one would know where to find the Secret Service Corps in the field. His friends decided to possess their souls in patience, trusting in the capabilities of the wily Captain and knowing full well that if any one could find a way out, or in, he would.
He did not disappoint them, and they might have known that on this occasion everything he did would be exactly opposed to his former methods.
It was to be a time of surprises for every one.
Hansie and her mother were just talking aboutthe Captain and regretting the appearance of the young moon—which meant under ordinary circumstances,nospies in town—and wondering how much longer they would be able to endure their suspense—wondering, too, how they would communicate with the Commander in future and longing for reliable news from the field—when the unexpected happened.
At break of day December 17th three travellers entered the town, travel-stained, torn, and weary. They walked boldly through the streets of Pretoria in the dim light of a summer's dawn, and what their destination was we shall see presently.
The van Warmelos were having supper that night at 8 o'clock when the door opened unceremoniously and Flippie's shock head was thrust in.
"There are two ladies looking for Harmony," he said. "They are at the front gate and want to see you."
Hansie immediately went out and met two girls, strangers to her, coming up the garden-path.
"Good evening," she said. "Do you wish to see my mother?"
"Who are you?" was the somewhat unexpected but perfectly natural question.
"I am Miss van Warmelo. Do you want any one here?"
"Yes," one of them replied in a hurried and mysterious way. "There are two men at your garden gate and they want to see Mrs. van Warmelo."
"Won't you ask them to come up to the house?" Hansie asked. "You can't very well expect my mother to——"
"Oh yes, she must," the other broke in hurriedly;"it is all right—she knows them. They will tell her themselves what they want."
"Wait here a moment. I will call my mother."
Hansie had some trouble in persuading her mother to leave the house.
"I am not going down to the gate to see any men," she said. "Let them come up to me."
"They won't, mother. It is no use. There is something behind this. They are either our own spies or the English are setting a trap for us. Be on your guard, but come out into the garden."
Sorely against her will Mrs. van Warmelo hurried out of the house, where she gave the girls a cool and haughty reception, saying:
"I don't understand this. Will you be good enough to ask your friends to come up to my house if they wish to speak to me?" And with that she turned back to the house alone.
Girl No. 1 said, "I think I had better go and fetch them, they are waiting near the wire fence," and walked rapidly down the path, while Hansie followed slowly with girl No. 2, asking many questions, but getting none but the most unsatisfactory replies.
When they reached the gate, girl No. 1 had disappeared altogether and there was no sign of the men. Hansie thought this very suspicious, and was about to turn to her companion with an impatient remark, when she suddenly said something about going to look for girl No. 1 and disappeared too, leaving Hansie standing alone at the gate with her troubled reflections.
Men and girls had now disappeared for good itseemed, and, after what seemed an endless time of waiting, she decided to go back to the house, when she was suddenly joined by her mother, now thoroughly alarmed.
"It must be a trap, dear mother," she whispered. "I can't make it out. Ah, here is some one coming at last"—but then her heart stood still, for a tall English officer, with helmet on and armed to the teeth, advanced, saluting the two ladies in the pale light of the young moon.
"Naudé," he whispered, stretching out his hands to them.
Captain Naudé in an English officer's uniform! Thank God, thank God!
In a moment all was happy confusion.
The Captain introduced his corporal, Venter, warmly took leave of girls No. 1 and 2, thanking them gratefully for services rendered by them that night, and then the four people sauntered up to the house, talking loudly as they passed the sergeant-major's tin "villa" on the other side of the fence.
The glimpse Hansie caught of the good man, calmly sitting inside, smoking his pipe and reading, little dreaming that his arch enemies were within a stone's throw of his peaceful abode, added a delightful thrill to the sensations experienced by her that night.
Very little was said when once they got inside. The hostesses took in the condition of the starved and exhausted heroes at a glance and busied themselves with preparations for a feast, while the men stretched themselves on the sofas in the dining-room. When Mrs. van Warmelo had lit the firein the kitchen and set the kettle on to boil, Hansie opened the windows of the drawing-room as wide as possible, lit the lamps and candles, and opening the piano, played some "loud music" for the edification of the sergeant-major.
"I've made him understand that we have visitors," she said, laughing, when she got back to the dining-room. "He will quite understand the all-pervading smell of coffee, even if he can't account for the ham and eggs at this time of night."
Home-made bread, butter, and preserves, rusks, cold plum-pudding, and fruit completed the repast—and how the men tucked in! They were so bruised and worn-out that they could hardly sit up straight to eat, and when they had each "forced a square meal into a round stomach" they once more stretched themselves out on the sofas, supremely content with their pipes.
Mother and daughter sat beside them talking until nearly midnight.
"Tell me" (Hansie began at the end)—"tell me where you disappeared to from our gate. I can't quite forgive you the nasty fright you gave us. You might have come straight up to the house."
"Well," Naudé answered, "I did not know whether you were still in town and alone at home, and we could not risk finding you with visitors. While we were at the gate some of the Military Mounted Police passed and we thought it safer to go for a walk. Unfortunately we walked right into their camp, and before we knew where we were, we were falling over their tent-ropes, and in our hurry to escape from them we found ourselves before thehouse of the Military Governor, where the sentinels on guard saluted me most respectfully. I can't tell you how glad we were to find you waiting for us when we came back to the gate." The diary shrinks from the attempt to describe the thrilling adventures these men had to relate, their hairbreadth escapes, their hardships, privations, and fatigue.
They sat talking with them far into the night, their hostesses hung on every word, their hearts full of admiration and respect for men so brave, so strong and calm, facing death a thousand times without flinching, looking their troubles philosophically in the face, trusting implicitly in their God.
The faith of Captain Naudé was sublime.
By degrees they got the story of their entering into the town from them.
It seemed that at this time Pretoria was so well guarded that it was almost impossible for the wiliest of spies to pass through the sentries unobserved, but, after much cautious inspection, one single unguarded spot had been found, the drift of the Aapies River, over which the S.E. railway bridge passed. This drift, which was about twenty feet wide, was so completely fenced in with a network of barbed wire that it was evidently not considered necessary to place sentinels there. By throwing over their parcels first and working away the ground for more than an hour under the barbed wire, the men were able to crawl and wriggle their way through the barrier.
They made it a rule never to clip the wires around the town, because this would betray the route used by them, but out in the veld no wire fences were spared.
When they had removed the worst traces of dust and dirt from their clothes they walked boldly through the streets, Naudé in the uniform of an English officer and Venter and Brenckmann, as his orderlies, dressed in khaki.
They were anxious to get under cover before the full light of day overtook them, but none of them knew where Harmony was, and they actually walked over the lower portion of Harmony's grounds, across the main road and over the Sunnyside bridge, hiding themselves in the thick poplar bushes beside the river. Here three Kaffir police sprang up and saluted Naudé as he passed. But for his uniform, he and his men would have been lost.
After a short consultation it was decided that Brenckmann should risk walking through the town in daylight to his home in Arcadia and send some one in the evening to escort Naudé and Venter to Harmony.
The two men had a terrible day in the bush, lying as flat as possible in the choking heat, without food and nothing to drink but a little filthy water in a hole near by.
When night fell Brenckmann sent his sister, with one of Venter's, to their hiding-place, and then the search for Harmony began. It was the unsuspecting Flippie, lounging about the streets after his day's work was done, who gave the required information and volunteered to show them the way.
Before they retired for the night Naudé took Mrs. van Warmelo's hand, and, looking earnestly into her face, said:
"Do you know what it means to harbour me? There is a heavy price on my head, and in the eventof an attack I do not mean to be taken alive. There will be a fight under your roof. I am well armed"—he tapped his revolvers significantly; "it means confiscation of your property and imprisonment for you and your daughter. Are you prepared for this? If not, say the word; it is not yet too late for us to seek refuge elsewhere."
"You are heartily welcome here," she replied, "and if it comes to fighting——"
"We have arms too," Hansie broke in, "a revolver and a pocket-pistol. It will not be the first time that Boer women have fought side by side with their men——" She stopped in some confusion, suddenly remembering General Maxwell and the permits he had given her.
"I fervently hope there will be no fighting," she continued. "I am sure there will not be. There are too many troops lying around Harmony, we shall never be suspected of harbouring spies; but if we should be surprised in the night, don't begin shooting at once. We have a hiding-place for you."
Mrs. van Warmelo led the way to her bedroom, where the men were to sleep, and, removing a rug from the floor beside the bed, she lifted two boards and disclosed an opening large enough for the body of a man to pass through.
"Put all your belongings in here and creep in at the first alarm," she said. "We will cover you up securely. Leave the matter in our hands."
"By the way," said the Captain suddenly, "who is Flippie?"
She gave him a brief outline of Flippie's history and how he came to be at Harmony.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, I should like to cultivate Flippie's acquaintance. I must find out what he thinks of howwecome to be with you."
"Oh, Flippie is all right," she declared. "You can trust him with anything. But perhaps it will be safer for you to remain in hiding while you are with us, not to be seen even by the servants."
"We can arrange all that to-morrow," Captain Naudé answered. "I am sure you must be tired now, and perhaps you will not get much rest. There are many things to do and to discuss to-morrow. I must see several people and give you the reports for the President."
"Will you let me be your secretary?" Hansie asked. "I am secretary to the new Committee."
"I shall be very glad if you will," Captain Naudé replied.
Needless to say, there was not much peace or rest for any one that night.
Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie kept guard all night in the dining-room. Every time Carlo barked outside they sprang up in alarm, their hearts throbbing, their breath held up in listening suspense, but nothing happened; and when day broke and the glorious sunlight flooded the garden, all their fears vanished, and they felt as if they had been harbouring spies all their lives.
They were up early, and as soon as their guests heard sounds of life about the house they cautiously emerged from their rooms, looking about them anxiously and inquiringly.
"Come in and have some coffee," Mrs. van Warmelo said warmly. "Did you have a good night? The servants are not in the house yet and you are safe for the present, but we must make our plans immediately. Are you going to be seen about the house or not?"
Captain Naudé then informed her that his orderly Venter wished to go home to his people in Arcadia towards evening, if she could lend him civilian clothing to wear, for once in the town the khaki was more of adanger than a safeguard to him, and Captain Naudé was in the same difficulty himself.
It would never do for him to be seen at Harmony in an English officer's uniform—"unless," he added inquiringly, "you are in the habit of entertaining the British military?"
"No, indeed we are not!" she exclaimed indignantly, and told him the story of the officers who had tried to visit her.
"Only one dear old colonel comes now," Hansie said, "but he has not been here for a long, long time. I would enjoy introducing you to him."
"Not in these clothes," Naudé replied. "An English colonel would know at once to whom they belonged. No; if I am to remain at Harmony as an ordinary visitor, you will have to provide me with ordinary clothes."
Mrs. van Warmelo promised to do that during the course of the day, and in the meantime it was decided to keep the men in the unused spare bedroom, out of sight of the prying eyes of servants and possible callers.
There their meals were served to them, the women washing up their dishes without a sound in the privacy of their own bedrooms, and at the same time doing all in their power to look and act as usual, showing themselves all over the house and garden, and busying themselves with the usual household duties.
"What did those two khaki women want with you last night, Miss Hansie?" the irrepressible Flippie asked as soon as he saw her that morning.
"Khaki women! Whatdoyou mean, Flippie?"
"Theywerekhaki women," he said aggressively."I saw two English officers with revolvers with them, and they were pretending they didn't belong to them. What did they want with Harmony?"
"I don't know them, Flippie. I never set eyes on them before. I am sure they were up to no good."
"But what did they say they wanted with Harmony?" he persisted.
"They told me they were looking for something else," Hansie answered lamely. "Have you fed the fowls, Flippie?"
"No, but I wonder—"
"Then go and do so at once," Hansie interrupted severely. "It is long past 6 o'clock."
He went unwillingly.
On comparing notes, she found that he had carried on the same conversation with her mother. There was no doubt that his suspicions had been thoroughly roused, and for the next few days they had their hands full, trying to keep his curiosity in check. Perhaps if they had taken Flippie into their confidence and trusted him with their secret, it would have saved them all the anxiety and unrest they had to pass through afterwards, but they acted for the best, and perhaps they would have been betrayed in any case.
What use to speculate now on what might have been?
Hansie's first duty that day was to go to town and inform the members of the Secret Committee of Naudé's arrival in Pretoria, and to procure clothing for Venter.
A friend of hers, whom she judged to be about the same size as Venter, gave her a splendid suit ofclothes, nearly new, without asking many questions, and placed his further services at her disposal.
She then went to Venter's relatives in Arcadia and told them on no account to visit him at Harmony, as he was coming home to them that evening. Too many people knew about the spies at Harmony, and there was good reason for beginning to feel uncomfortable.
The women of the Committee promised to call at Harmony that afternoon.
When Hansie arrived home she sewed on Venter's buttons, supplied him with studs and ties, a clean pocket-handkerchief, and a new hat.
I believe he had on clothing belonging to six different people when he sallied forth soon after sundown, and Mrs. van Warmelo was glad to see the last of him, for her cares and responsibilities were multiplying, and his presence in the house was one more.
The Captain was still in his uniform, but he was provided with clean underclothing from the "boys'" wardrobes, and from that moment the unmistakable smell ofcommandono longer pervaded that home!
The rest of the morning was spent in making copies of the dispatches to the President and drawing up a list of the necessaries to be provided by the Committee for the men to take out with them, and in the afternoon Harmony was besieged with a stream of callers.
Poor Hansie thought they would never end, and while she was entertaining them in the drawing-room her mother was keeping the others quiet in the dining-room—Mrs. Honey, Mrs. Armstrong, Mrs. Malan, and the two spies.
That night their sleep was deep and refreshing,for they were worn out in mind and body. There was only one man in the house, and they were getting used to his presence, and the thought of the secret hiding-place gave a sense of security.
They were up early again next morning, and, all the "business" transactions having been done the day before, they devoted themselves to the entertainment of their guest.
A more delightful day they never spent, and the memory of it clings to them still.
Captain Naudé was beginning to feel the restrictions of city hospitality, and, longing to get out into the big garden, where the early figs and apricots held their tempting sway, he asked Mrs. van Warmelo once more to provide him with a suit of civilian clothing.
He was taller and slighter of build than the "boys," but she gave him a suit belonging to the youngest son, Fritz, and from that moment he walked freely about the house and garden.
His helmet and uniform lay buried in the hiding-place under the floor, but his revolvers he kept on under his coat, in the leathern belt strapped around his waist. This fact was significant of the deadly peril in which they all were.
While the women were hastily getting through their household duties in order to have a long talk with him, he roamed about the garden and finally stretched himself out on the benches under the six weeping-willows at the foot of the orange avenue.
"Who dat lying under our trees, Miss Hansie?" "Gentleman Jim" inquired, from his perch in the mulberry tree behind the house.
"A friend of ours, Jim. He has been very ill inthe hospital and has asked us to let him spend the day in our garden."
"Oh yes, I can see him's cloes much too big for him."
"Hand me that basket, Jim, if it is full," Hansie commanded. "Here is another; and when you have finished, make a big fire in the kitchen, because we must have a nice dinner to-day for the baas."
"All right, little missie," was the respectful answer.
"Gentleman Jim" was settled, and the same performance was gone through casually with Flippie and Paulus; but the three Italian gardeners and the eight or ten Kaffirs employed by them were left to think what they pleased, and they went about their work without taking the slightest notice of Captain Naudé.
"The people in your hospital have nice ruddy complexions," Mrs. van Warmelo said laughingly, when Hansie told her what the Captain was passing for; but the ruse answered, and, for the time at least, all suspicions were lulled to rest.
When they joined the Captain in the garden later on they invited him to help them to gather strawberries for the people who were coming to see him again that afternoon. They were just engaged in the pleasant task, chatting gaily and feeling, oh, so safe, when Mrs. van Warmelo started violently.
The sergeant-major was standing on the other side of the fence, watching them intently.
Captain Naudé bent low over the strawberry plants and whispered: "Don't move. Go on picking quietly. He will soon go away."
He did, apparently satisfied with the appearance of the stranger, but the ladies had been seized witha sudden nervousness and implored the Captain to come into the house.
Mrs. van Warmelo pointed out to him a group of dense loquat trees, with dark-green, glossy foliage, a suitable place of refuge should he be compelled to flee from the house at night.
He was not a man of many words, but, once started, there was no difficulty in getting all the information they wanted out of him, and he answered their leading questions in a simple, straightforward way, his every word bearing the unmistakable stamp of truth.
I have avoided going into the details of the actual war as much as possible.
It has not been my intention to weary my reader with dry facts concerning battlefields, nor to give the war reports and war rumours, so often unreliable, with which Hansie's diary is filled, but the events connected with Captain Naudé's first visit to Harmony I wish to give in the smallest detail. Great historical truths stand out in bold relief against a background of minute details and the realistic description of the common life. This background Hansie's diary affords better than anything written from memory after many years could have done.
While the Captain slept Hansie made her notes, and when he woke she was with him again for further news.
Her thirst for information was insatiable.
"I have been longing to ask you, Captain, where you got your English uniform," Hansie said as they sat down in the dining-room with the great bowls of scarlet strawberries before them. "Tell us everything while we remove these stems."
"You have heard of the terrible battle we had at Bakenlaagte—when Colonel Benson fell, mortally wounded? I was there."
"Were you?" they exclaimed in breathless surprise.
"Yes, and the uniform lying buried under your floor I myself took from the dead body of Colonel Thorold after the battle."
By degrees a full description was given of that great British reverse on the High Veld and what took place after.
When the battle was over and Colonel Benson lay mortally wounded, surrounded by doctors and officers in high authority, Naudé advanced, and asked to be allowed to take his papers. The men protested, but Naudé ordered them all aside and gently removed every paper from his pockets. He had no important documents with him and the private papers were of course returned to the men in charge of the dying officer.
He expired soon afterwards and was mourned by the Boers as well as the English, for he was admired and respected by all for his courage and daring, and his fame as an honourable foe had spread throughout the Boer lines.
Many of them were heard to say that they had only meant to catch him and that they bitterly regretted his death.
It was one of the worst battles, under General Botha, Naudé had ever been in. About twelve Boers were killed instantly, and three wounded to death.
With the storming of the cannon, Boers and English were so close together that the one could hear whatthe other said, and Naudé's corporal, Venter, saw a poor soldier fall back mortally wounded, gasping out with his dying breath, "Oh, dear mother!"
God of pity! who will tell that bereaved parent that her son's last thoughts and words were for her alone?
It was terrible to hear the wounded and dying praying and calling to their God for help. Nationality, language, enmity, and bitter hatred were forgotten as side by side those mortal foes prepared to meet their God—one God!
Imploring one another for help, praying for one drop of water to alleviate their dying agonies—in vain!
Two cannon were taken by the Boers, one of which they destroyed at once, keeping the other for their future use.
When all was over General Botha spoke a few touching words to his men, thanking them for their bravery, and congratulating them on their success.
Unpleasant though it may be to think of, it is my duty to relate that, before burial, the soldiers were stripped of their clothes, and every Boer permitted to take what he required, but the bodies were treated with respect.
Naudé, for purposes of his own, chose the uniform of the dead Colonel Thorold, which had six bullet holes through it and was covered with blood-stains.
Revolvers, leggings, whistle, helmet, all was complete, even to the stars and crown on the Colonel's shoulders.
Naudé felt himself rich indeed in the possession of articles which he knew would be invaluable to him on his next entry into Pretoria.
One of his men took Colonel Benson's uniform, but handed the crown to him (Naudé) at his request, and then the bodies were covered with blankets for a hurried burial.
Oh, cruel war when men slay one another!
"Oh, blest Red Cross, like an angel in the trail of the men who slay!"
There were about ten dead Englishofficerson the field and nineteen wounded, of whom three or four died afterwards.